Islanders' return to Nassau Coliseum special to Fischler

Legendary hockey reporter and analyst Stan Fischler will write a weekly scrapbook for NHL.com this season. Fischler, known as The Hockey Maven, will share his knowledge, brand of humor and insight with readers each Wednesday.
Today, he shares some of his favorite stories from the Nassau Coliseum, which will host its first NHL regular-season game since April 11, 2015, when the New York Islanders play the Columbus Blue Jackets on Saturday (7 p.m. ET; MSG+, FS-O, NHL.TV).

I began watching hockey at Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum starting with the Islanders first home game on Oct. 7, 1972. I never stopped "living" in the Old Barn until it (temporarily) closed in 2015.
But beyond the championships and record-breaking feats of
Mike Bossy
,
Bryan Trottier
,
Billy Smith
and Co., I came away with a treasure trove of untold memories. Here are a few.

Overtime drama

The fifth and deciding game of the Patrick Division Semifinal between the Islanders and New York Rangers on April 10, 1984, has been regarded by many as one of the best playoff games of all-time.
The five-star (out of five) rating is based on the intense rivalry, the beginning-to-end-thrills of a late third-period comeback by the Rangers and the pulsating ending, with Islanders defenseman
Ken Morrow
scoring the series-winning goal at 8:56 of overtime.
Since I was handling between-periods interviews for Islanders telecasts on SportsChannel, my rooting interest was on the side of the home team. While the game was on, I situated myself behind the glass in a corner of the rink; with about five minutes left in each period, I would head to the studio across from the visitors dressing room.
I watched from my strategic location behind the glass when defenseman
Tomas Jonsson
beat Rangers goalie
Glen Hanlon
at 7:56 of the third period to give the Islanders a 2-1 lead. Frankly, I was feeling much enthused as I returned to the studio with about five minutes remaining.
That is, until I ventured into the studio. Standing there watching the game on our TV monitor were not one but two Rangers who had been scratched, defenseman
Barry Beck
and forward
Nick Fotiu
. Needless to say, they were rooting for their team.
My first inclination was to throw both of them out of our studio, but that was impossible. Beck was too big and Fotiu was one of my best friends in hockey; we were working together on a book.
Then again, it didn't matter too much until Rangers forward
Don Maloney
tied the game with 39 seconds left in the third period. Naturally, Beck and Fotiu went wild with joy.
I was crushed, of course, and hoped that neither of the Rangers would return for overtime; but they did (our studio had the monitor closest to the visitors dressing room). When overtime began, the Rangers were all over the Isles and only Smith, one of the great money goalies of all time, saved them from defeat.
Meanwhile, Beck and Fotiu were oohing and aahing all over the room. I kept my mouth shut.
Shut, that is, until Morrow's shot beat Hanlon to win the game and the series. I didn't utter a peep until Beck and Fotiu did their orderly retreat. After all, the win put the four-time defending Stanley Cup champion Islanders into the next round, continuing the "Drive for Five."
Looking back, I still can't decide what was more exciting -- the game or the melodrama in our tiny studio.
This much is certain: It remains one of my most heart-throbbing evenings at the Old Barn.

Sit down, Herb

Prior to a pivotal Islanders-Rangers playoff game, I was to do a live interview with Rangers coach Herb Brooks in our SportsChannel studio across from the visitors dressing room. My "Coaches Corner" segment was preceded by a five-minute interview Jiggs McDonald, our play-by-play man, had taped with Islanders coach Al Arbour.
The arrangement was that Brooks would be brought into the studio one minute or so before the Arbour interview ended; however, someone mistakenly escorted him into our studio four minutes too soon. Although Brooks and I were good friends, he testily told me that he wanted to get started right away so he could get back to his team.
Knowing that the Arbour interview couldn't be interrupted, I told Marc Berlinsky, a then-timid college intern acting as stage manager, to tell our producer to "speed up the Arbour" chat so I could get Brooks out of there. Of course, I knew that couldn't be done, but I was stalling as much as possible. Meanwhile Brooks' temper became hotter by the second.
Finally, totally fed up with my persiflage -- and no doubt seeing through my failing attempts at "icing" the Arbour interview - Brooks announced, "I'm outta here!" With those words. he began to leap out of his seat and bolt to his dressing room.
Of course, that would have killed my interview -- and my normally taciturn stage manager knew it. Before Brooks could jump from his seat, a very loud voice piped up and said, "You, sit down. Now!"
It was my otherwise milquetoast stage manager, Berlinsky, completely out of character, stunning the "Miracle on Ice" coach to the core. Brooks reflexively fell back into his seat simultaneous with the red light flashing on the camera. The Arbour interview was over.
Before Brooks could follow through on his leap, I thrust the microphone in front of him and popped my first question. Indignant but knowing he had no choice, Brooks answered, stayed for the full five minutes and then sped out of his seat in too much of a hurry to bother and tell Berlinsky where to go.
(P.S. Berlinsky, no longer timid, eventually grew in the industry, becoming an executive with Madison Square Garden.)

Arbour forgets his wife

Few coaches in NHL history took their losses harder than Arbour. But one night at the Old Barn, his despair after a defeat impinged on his memory. His first captain,
Ed Westfall
, recalled the episode:
"We had played a clunker and Al was livid. He wouldn't talk to the players or the media," Westfall said. "He got in his car and drove to [his home in] Cold Spring Harbor. When he pulled into his driveway, he realized that someone was missing -- his wife. He had left Claire Arbour back at the Coliseum."
Arbour quickly made the 13-mile return trip to the arena and found Claire outside the dressing room. He did what he had forgotten to do in his fury over losing; drive his wife home. The good news was that Claire, a longtime hockey wife, was understanding.
"More than anything," Westfall concluded, "that story tells you about Al's intensity when it came to winning and losing hockey games."

'Bow-tie Bill' vs. 'Stubborn Stan'

For many years, Islanders games on SportsChannel were produced by Stan Epstein, a World War II Navy hero and a good friend of mine. Before every home game, I'd drive Stan and pal Bob Stampleman from our Manhattan homes to the Coliseum.
After the Islanders had won their second Stanley Cup in 1981, Epstein told us that general manager Bill Torrey had given every team member a commemorative championship ring. As I drove, Epstein turned to me and began a long harangue:
"Our SportsChannel crew is as much a part of the team as the players," he insisted. "And we should get rings as well as the players."
Epstein repeated the theme so many times, I burst with the solution: "Stan, don't tell me. Go to Bill's office and tell him what you're telling me."
He did just that; and after hearing out the TV producer, Torrey said, "Stan, I have one question for you: How many goals did you score for us last year?'"
Stuck for a reply, Epstein thanked Torrey, known as "Bow Tie Bill," for his time and made an orderly retreat to our TV truck, where I was waiting.
"Stan, how did you make out?" I asked.
"I didn't," he replied. "I'm not as much of an Islander as Denis Potvin!"

Taking 'toll' on visiting players

During the 1980s, I'd do taped interviews with visiting players after morning skates. Since my younger son, Simon, had become an Islanders fan, I'd take him with me and let him roam around the Coliseum. While I did my segments in the studio across from the visitors dressing room, Simon would, unbeknownst to me, "earn" money on his own. But I'll let Simon, now 40, give you his report:
"In those days I had the run of the Barn. Nobody bothered me. One morning I set up a "toll booth" outside the visitors locker room. I decided that as they left after practice, the players had to "pay" me a "toll" to leave the Coliseum.
"I guess they figured me for an enterprising kid; and with a smile on their faces they'd ask me how much they had to pay. I'd tell them that I'd take anything from a penny to a quarter -- and they delivered. Over the years I totaled about five bucks in total dough.
"By the way, never -- not once -- did a player ever say, 'Scram, kid.' To me it was a testament to how terrific hockey players are as people. Then and now."